Whispered Tales


These green birds of heaven
These children of Eve and Adam
As the paradise bloom in its awake
The old sufferings flows in its lake
The sight of moments and joy stained
As we let them through the ordeals framed
Subjected we have to our ruthless demise
The trampled sigh as the innocence cries
Now only the muted thoughts in seasons dry
Like the old sketches from the painter’s sky
The broken hearts and countless dreams
The whispered tales in muffled screams….

Kashkin

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s